There Won’t Be A Next Time

I shifted my body and winced. My thigh muscles protested. I tried to push his arm off my belly. ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘Just for a while longer.’ His languid voice set my spine atingle. He didn’t remove his arm. Instead, he rolled over and threw his legs over mine. I was made the little spoon to his big one. ‘Get up. You’re crushing me.’ I elbowed him in the chest. ‘You didn’t complain when I was on top of you last night.’ That was…different. I squirmed, wanting to get out of his arms. He thrust his hips forward. ‘If you keep squirming, you’re not getting out of this bed for another hour.’ I felt his morning wood and froze. ‘Actually,’ he whispered in my ear, ‘I changed my mind. I’d prefer it if you moved.’ I played possum. Every part of my body ached like I’d been forced to participate in an all-night decathlon. I didn’t think I could walk if we did it again. So we just lay there, spooning. I was waiting for his morning wood to go down. I didn’t know what he was doing. When his phone rang, I seized the opportunity and escaped into the bathroom. The second shower lasted longer than the first. I rinsed out every part of my body, twice. I lathered and scrubbed and rubbed, but the marks on my body refused to go away. The hickeys and bite marks on my clavicles could be spotted from a mile away. The man had been an animal! He left so much ‘evidence.’ And my dress was off-the-shoulder, which was no help at all. I sighed and hoisted the dress as high up as it would go. When I came out of the bathroom, he’d already showered and was getting dressed. He had his back to me, which gave me an unimpeded view of the bright red scratch marks on his bare skin. That made me feel slightly better. At least I got even. He turned around. Sunlight struck at just the right angle and made his face refulgent. His dark eyes were like black onyx, mesmerising, mysterious. ‘Thank you,’ I blurted, though I didn’t know what I was thanking him for. ‘You’re welcome.’ He buttoned up a shirt. Black, as expected. ‘Just don’t try and jump into the river again. You won’t be so lucky to run into me every time.’ He adjusted his cufflinks. ‘If you still feel depressed over your husband’s performance issues, you’re welcome to come back here and make another wish. Anytime.’ His offer threw me for a moment. Then I smiled. ‘I don’t think there’s going to be a next time,’ I said, hoping my voice sounded firm enough. I wasn’t myself last night. I wasn’t thinking. It had been a pure act of impulse to have sex with him. I was a married woman. Even if I wasn’t, I still wasn’t the type to look for one-night stands. The man didn’t answer. He just stared at me fixedly. Then he put on a tie, his movement slow and measured. I bowed my head, feeling awkward. I surveyed my dress. It had no pockets. ‘Could you give me some money?’ I asked. ‘Hmm?’ A dark shadow flitted across his face. His voice was colder. ‘How much do you want?’ He opened a drawer in the nightstand and removed a chequebook. He even took out a pen, ready to fill in whatever figure I demanded. I knew he must have gotten the wrong idea. ‘A hundred bucks will do. I don’t have my wallet with me. I just need to get a taxi.’ The drive from the bridge to his house was more than half an hour. This place didn’t look like it had a bus stop. ‘Oh.’ He returned the chequebook to the drawer. ‘My wallet’s on that table next to you. Take as much as you need. But I don’t think you can get a taxi here. I could give you a lift.’ ‘Well, in that case, can you drive me to the nearest bus stop?’ I was wearing heels and my legs were jelly. I couldn’t walk ten metres. It turned out to be a wise call. His villa was almost all the way out of town, just beyond the city limits. He didn’t stop the Audi until he’d driven for twenty, twenty-five minutes. He pulled over on the side of the road. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked. I didn’t ask for his, and I didn’t plan on telling him mine. So I just smiled, thanked him, said goodbye, and got out of the car. It was a chance meeting, a wild night, and I thought that was the end of it. The stranger with a face like a movie star and a body like a Greek god was a shooting star in my life—dazzling, but gone in a second. I thought I would never see him again. I was wrong.